


Let the more loving one be me

by crackinthecup



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Femslash February, Fluff, Mostly Smut, Oral Sex, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-16 04:06:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3473813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crackinthecup/pseuds/crackinthecup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An uneventful morning in Valinor for Indis and Míriel Therindë. My contribution to Femslash February.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let the more loving one be me

**Author's Note:**

> Credit for the title goes to W. H. Auden and his lovely poem _The More Loving One_.

The tapestry stretched and drooped from the wall, smearing it in scarlet and ruin. The long hall stood echoing and empty, all dark marble with swirling fractals of color where light broke and glittered, and stately pillars marching in solemn procession. Between two of the pillars, framed within the milky glister of the veins of opal winding round them, a veiled figure sat as though carven in stone. The bench curved in an arc of delicate woodwork and fluted armrests, and she with silver hair and sheer cowl perched at the center, staring. There, upon the wall, her son died his thousandth death in wrath and flame and doom, and still she gazed. 

Míriel did not turn around when the echoing footsteps rang closer. Fingers skimmed over her shoulder; they curled round her upper arm and squeezed, gentle and reassuring. 

“It is late,” Indis said quietly. “Come back to bed.” 

Míriel swiveled round. She lifted her eyes to that youthful face. Indis was robed in shimmering, diaphanous white, and her curls spilled over her shoulders, hung low down her back, like rays of sunshine in that drear place. She smiled softly, and her blue eyes smiled with her. “Come, beloved.” 

Míriel stood like one in a trance. She let Indis drape an arm round her waist and draw her close. 

Outside the halls Tilion was sinking toward the sea, pale now and glimmering but dimly. Away in the east Arien slumbered still. Míriel felt she could lose herself in this half-shadow when all the lands were gray and formless; she could roam here forever, till he returned or else the world imploded in ruin. 

But Indis coaxed her onward, let her arm slip from her waist to tangle their fingers together. Through the whispering trees, up the pathway, they came in sight of the eastern portico of the house just as Arien peeked above the rim of the world and all blushed to see her fire-crowned radiance. 

The bed seemed warm after the lofty, drafty hall, and she let Indis press her into the pillows, she let her disrobe her, peel back the gray veils and burn kisses into her skin. Indis pulled her dress away, and it fluttered to the floor in a dull, dark heap. She kneeled up in bed, between Míriel’s legs, and with a small sound of delight she tugged off her own garments. 

“Isn’t this much better?” she whispered as she leaned down and planted a firm kiss on Míriel’s lips. 

Míriel squirmed; she spread her legs and kissed her back, feeling the familiar warmth of desire low in her belly. She smiled against the curve of Indis’ mouth. “Of course, love.” 

She carded her fingers through Indis’ hair and as they tangled and snagged, Indis twisted back with a laugh. “Ouch, you impatient thing!” 

She nipped at Míriel’s throat in retaliation, she trailed her hand upward, over the soft roundness of her belly, and cupped her breast a little more roughly than usual. 

“Who is impatient now?” Míriel chided, half giggling with the ticklish little touches, wriggling away from Indis’ pinching fingers. Indis glanced up and grinned; she sucked a bruise onto Míriel’s neck until her head thudded back with a gasp, and trailed sweet lapping kisses even lower. Her hands parted Míriel’s thighs, they slipped behind and levered her hips forward, upward, and she nuzzled into the warm flesh of her pelvis with a happy little noise. 

And when Indis finally, _finally_ dipped her head, Míriel could not hold back the moan that shuddered on her lips. She shifted against the sheets, she rolled her hips experimentally and lifted her head just a fraction, to watch. Indis straightened up. She pressed steady hands against Míriel’s peeking hipbones, and Míriel writhed in her hold, a plea perched on her tongue; but then Indis smiled her lovely, disarming smile, and Míriel’s breath caught in her throat. 

Indis did not waver as she guided her fingers inside her, as they curled and withdrew only to push back in, deeper as her body relaxed. Míriel turned her face into the pillow as the angle changed, as it deepened still and Indis’ fingers brushed against something exquisite inside her, and into the silken bedclothes she stifled a cry of rapture. 

“You’re so wet for me,” Indis breathed, and still after all this time her girlish voice was tinged with wonder. She stooped anew, and the lap of her tongue made Míriel pant her heavy breaths through cheeks flushed a rosy hue. 

Míriel ground her hips upward, she gasped as ardor pulsed that little bit brighter, and _yes_ came her answer as she clung to Indis’ golden hair; _yes_ as her hips stuttered, and her thighs tensed over Indis, the spasm of muscle trapping her close. 

Míriel found her release with a wave of liquid heat. Her lips fell open in a silent scream even as Indis’ little touches turned gentle upon her, even as she dotted soft, ticklish kisses against her innermost thigh. Indis gave a lingering stroke that made her muscles hitch in one last aftershock, and draped herself beside her with a contented sigh. Their legs slid together, and Míriel turned in her drowsiness and nuzzled against Indis’ chest; she let Indis clasp her close. 

“Better?” Indis stroked the messy strands of hair that clung to her brow; she smoothed them off her face, tucking them behind her ear. 

“Mmm.” 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Indis laughed and with languid indulgence allowed her lips to linger over the crown of Míriel’s head. She tugged up the blankets, she patted them down snugly and cradled Míriel to her chest as she, finally, slept. 


End file.
